How do you sleep knowing you have done everything you could to save a little boy but he dies anyway? Those hollow lifeless eyes staring at you while you perform CPR, his blood on your hands. Everything seemed like a dream. A terrible one. The paramedics, the nurses giving instructions, the consultants telling us we were doing it too fast. Someone singing “ah ah ah ah staying alive, staying alive” to guide us. The poor mother crying beside me while I was trying my best to save her child, and finally, the parents’ anguished cry when the consultant told them to say their final goodbyes.
How do you move on after witnessing an innocent 11 year old boy’s life slip away? I always thought that I have some sort of special powers, mostly due to my strength and sheer will. As I was pumping his flail chest, trying to get the heart beating again and the blood flowing, I stared into his half-opened eyes and prayed and prayed and begged to God to give him another chance to life; to bring joy to his parents, to experience the ups and downs of teenage life, even disappoint his parents a bit at some point while searching the meaning of life. He was only 11. But I guess, life was always a bargain for him. Maybe it was time for him to be healthy and happy in the arms of God.
This is the first death I ever saw. I will never forget you, kid. And thank you for teaching me the importance of cherishing my life. Thank you for reminding me that Chanels, Balenciaga, skinny body, beautiful hair and make up is nothing without a healthy body. Rest in peace, little boy. I hope you are running around without a care for your faulty heart wherever you are.